Closure: A Hug and a Kiss

"En este momento, el debe digala, 'revuelta te, revuelta te. Amo te!"

This is the moment when he's supposed to tell her, "Come back, come back. I love you!"

The scene was simply too tempting. It was time to express what the audience was anticipating. And if the audience was not English speaking (especially in light of the fact that "The Pelican Brief" was on one the Spanish-speaking channels, then say aloud what we felt should happen next. But Denzel didn't call out to Julia to come back, come back. I love you! Instead, Julia returned to him without benefit of the obvious desire to request it.

They had suffered through many hazardous and life-threatening situations together. They had bonded. Her character paused in front of him and then the pair embraced. It was exquisite. They released one another and probably said something to one another. But by then, we were caught up in the scene and waited for what we wanted them to do to consummate the experience. They hugged again as intensely as before.

And when they released one another, we still held our breaths and anticipated that final closing act. It did not happen. Instead, Denzel watched Julia walk away from him toward the vehicle that would take her away while his jaw and neck pulsed his agitation and desire.

"Besame. Besame." Kiss me. Kiss me. But he did not speak the words; he only looked them. And she did not speak the words. Instead, she looked them. And there was no closure.

My Spanish-speaking comrade of the laundromat smiled because we both shared the same thoughts about the scene and were able to share them in the same language.

I happened to look to my left and saw another woman who by my guess probably spoke no Spanish. Lest I prove myself to be rude, I shared the translation of what I'd said with the second woman. She also enjoyed the anticipated script and portrayal. She also agreed those were the words that would have been perfect in the scene.

"Porque nos haganlo? Quieremos una besa pero no hacelo." "Why do we do that? We want a kiss but we don't get it." Both of my laundry friends had to agree that was the biggest failing we as people do. We allow the perfect moment, the kiss, to get away. And so goes the regrets that follow us the rest of our days.

How interesting that "The Pelican Brief" and that close aired on the anniversary of my own experience from precisely a year ago.

In our two-year relationship, this was the first time we'd been separated for so long. Although my basis for coming to the coffee shop was for the Internet access, it was a time when he sized me up and made a determination that I was the one. He just needed to figure out how to get my attention. So the courtship began in 2006 with little pastries surreptitiously dropped on my table while I worked. And he seemed to always have some thought to share with me. It was surprising how much work needed to be done near my table.

Approximately a year later, in June, he'd waited and courted long enough. I was still in work focus and tending to my business. He was going to have to stop the target in her tracks and get her attention. He stood erect and I had to look up at him towering over me as he made the pronouncement for everyone to hear.

"Are you seeing anyone else?" he demanded to know. I refused to answer. He'd watched me everyday. He knew my thoughts and habits. He knew what brought me joy. He knew my vibrant personality that drew everyone to me. And he knew I allowed no one into my emotions except him. He waited for several seconds, pretending to wait for a response from me. There was none. "Then why not me!" he pronounced. Then he turned on his heel and walked out the front door.

The next day, we both knew that the commitment was sealed and we were a pair. As time passed, we did couple things. We read the newspaper together. We conversed when he took his breaks. We traded jokes. He helped me with a translation and educated me of the Spanish names of certain things such as ajos. I learned of cultural and archeological matters and became a little seasoned in the cultural matters of his country.

We did so many things. Life seemed to swallow us and wrap us into a cocoon. But there was one thing that interposed itself between us. In August, a health issue prevented any contact save holding hands. Then a wound developed. And both required attention. But the doctors could only focus their attention on one situation or the other. Both conditions lingered into December and past the holidays.

It was a year ago this week that My Guy and I had been separated because of time and appointments and business matters and an overwhelming number of things that demanded attention. We were apart for more than a week.

I arrived at the coffee shop and realized it was after 5 PM and therefore after he had gone home for the day. It would be Monday before I saw him again and we still hadn't traded phone numbers (mostly from oversight) so there was no way for him to call me. That was also the reason he'd not attempted to contact me during my absence though I have no explanation for why he didn't use the email. But one of the other regulars saw me and came over to let me know what had been happening during my absence.

"Are you okay?" the fellow regular inquired. "You know, I was really concerned. I thought "My Guy" was going to have a nervous breakdown. He kept coming to me all day, everyday and asking me if I'd seen you and whether you were okay." The fellow regular confided that My Guy was beside himself with worry and concern about my welfare. "He's been watching for you everyday."

At those words, I looked up and through the plate glass windows. What my friend was saying was true for there sat My Guy in one of the patio chairs, casually smoking a cigarette in order to look nonchalant. What he was really doing was watching each bus that passed by to see whether I would debark from that one and finally come back to the coffee shop - and him. But I did not debark for I was already inside.

At that moment, his instincts told him to turn around and look inside the store. There I stood next to our mutual friend. He smiled, put out his cigarette, pulled himself together, and came inside. He sheepishly approached me as I stood in a little alcove. It was our impression that the alcove was a quiet, remote place in the store, tucked into the shadows where no one could see what was happening.

"I thought you were going to come on the 200," he admitted when we stood before one another. "Actually, I came from the other direction. But you're still here. You're off work now, is that true?" He smiled and became animated. "No. I'm just starting work." We rejoiced in the fact that we'd not missed the other on this day.

It was good to see his face again. His physique was so wonderful that he made everything he wore look elegant and that was how he appeared in his quilted burgundy three-quarter coat. His shoulders were broad as though he wore shoulder pads, but it was all natural. His arms were muscular and well toned. His waist was small so that his clothing draped him with a stylish fall from the shoulders that complemented his figure. His height of 6 feet did him justice.

I held out my hand to him and he took it. I whispered, "Venga" (Come) and he did so willingly. Without coaching, his hands encircled my waist and pulled me close to him. We embraced. A bolt of electricity pierced both our bodies. He pulled away, surprised at the experience and commented on it. We exchanged a few more words and the hunger returned. I again extended my hand to him. Again, he required no tutoring. The second embrace was as electrifying as the first.

Some months later, I sat at a table at the front of the store. There was a moment when I happened to look up from what I was doing and saw that little alcove that we thought was a small, private niche. It was not. The truth of the matter was that the alcove was like standing on a stage. Everyone in the coffee shop could see absolutely everything that happened in that area. It was the most public place in the house.

Now a year later, I still reflect on that day and have the same regret as I did for Denzel and Julia. There should have been closure. I should have kissed him that second time.